


December to Remember

by milkshakesandmurders



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty and Sweet Pea friendship, Bughead Secret Santa, Christmas Fluff, Each chapter will be a different delightful festive trope, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, oh no there's been a big storm!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkshakesandmurders/pseuds/milkshakesandmurders
Summary: A collection of the many different (and sometimes) awkward scenarios Betty and Jughead find themselves in, with added tinsel, gingerbread cookies & wreaths.ORJust a bunch of festive tropes.





	1. believe in your elf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youarethelight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youarethelight/gifts).



> This is for my wonderful Bughead Secret Santa giftee, @jemmablossom. Thank you for giving me a bajillion tropes to work with--each better than the one before! I'm trash, and couldn't possibly stick to just a one-shot. So, with thanks to a few people (I'm looking at the Motivation Station crew over at Discord), this is now a small multi-chapter, with each chapter exploring a different trope...
> 
> (Huge thanks to @bugggghead for looking over this, and stroking my fragile writing ego along the way. I love you.)

It started off with the festive looking wreath on her door.

Followed by the far-too-bright twinkly fairy lights on the balcony.

Then one Saturday morning— _at some ungodly hour_ —Christmas carols.

_Jingle-fucking-Bells_.

Jughead pulled his pillow over his head and let out a frustrated groan.

Squeezing his eyes shut, and willing his rigid body to relax into his oversized bed, he attempted to go back to sleep.

But, minute after minute passed—and Jingle Bells soon morphed into Santa Claus is Coming to Town—he conceded that sleep wasn’t returning anytime soon. Throwing the blankets back, he hissed at the feeling of the cold floor below and he pulled his slippers on (it was winter, after all).

After he finished his bathroom routine—he trudged his way into the kitchen and fumbled with his overpriced coffee machine (“You’re such a coffee wanker,” Veronica had mumbled at him last Christmas. “I may be a coffee wanker, Veronica, but _your_ husband _is_ the one that bought this for me,” he’d retorted, shooting a glance over to Archie who chuckled in response). Once it whirred into action, he took several deep breaths as _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ started up.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, he concluded that he much preferred Mrs. Brown who used to live next door—sure, she would knock on his door at eight in the morning, but he’d prefer _that_ over whatever the fuck was happening now.

Hearing the coffee machine wind down, he grabbed for the cup and sighed as the liquid gold passed his lips and traveled down his throat. Deciding to forego his usual breakfast this morning once Mariah Carey had started seeping through the walls of his suddenly too-small apartment, Jughead slammed down the remainder of his coffee and hurried to the bathroom to shower.

(The further he got away from the terrible festive music, the better, as far as he was concerned.)

 

~

 

Reaching into his pocket, Jughead’s attention was pulled in the direction of a familiar tune being hummed.

After a couple of painful seconds, his eyes landed on a overly cheerful blonde walking in his direction.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I don’t think we’ve met.” Reaching out, the elf before him introduced herself as _Betty_. “And, you are?”

“Jughead.”

“Well, it’s great to finally meet you, Jughead!” Offering a sweet smile—enough to bring on a toothache, even—she continued, “I hope you don’t mind the decorations and whatnot,” she said, gesturing to her apartment. “It’s my first Christmas away from my family, so…”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled.

Jughead would’ve been lying if he’d said he hadn’t noticed the hurt that briefly flashed on her face at his gruff response. “I’m just not… festive. Never have been.”

“....I see, well..” as she fiddled with the tinsel on the hem of her dress, her eyes flicked in the direction of her apartment, “I should go. I have some baking to do.”

Jughead nodded, and pulled the key he had been toying with in his pocket.

“I’ll see you around, Jughead.”

“Yeah, see you.” He pushed the key into the lock and turned, briefly catching sight of his new neighbour, instantly cursing himself out as he realised, _she’s cute_.

 

* * *

 

Betty closed the door behind her and released a deep sigh. Turning around, she smiled at the lights flickering away on the balcony.

She really did love Christmas.

Maybe too much, she’d tell herself as she would hang the decorations on her tree, or when she’d put the figurines on the fireplace alongside some decorative stockings and candles.

_Never_ , she whispered.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and did a mental check of the ingredients she needed for the Cooper-famous gingerbread men cookies.

Opening the cupboard, she retrieved a glass and poured a hearty serving of Pinot.

It had been an excruciatingly long day—with screaming children and even angrier parents—taking Santa photos. Relishing in the alcoholic beverage, Betty realised, she had already almost finished her glass and felt herself flush ever so slightly.

_Jughead_.

“Strange name,” she muttered. “Cute face, though.”

Finishing her drink, she walked down to hallway to her room to get changed.

 

~

 

With the gingerbread men cookies almost ready to be taken out of the oven, Betty went and changed into more appropriate-Christmas-party attire.

Jeans, boots and _of course_ , a festive sweater.

Hearing the buzz of the oven, Betty ran a brush through her hair and nodded at her finished appearance.

After placing the tray of cookies on the bench. She smiled at the familiar smell of gingerbread, and was reminded of home. Reaching for the bottle of Pinot, she poured the remaining liquid into her waiting glass and sat down on the couch.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and her new work colleague, Cheryl had invited Betty to her annual Christmas Eve-Eve party.

At first, she had declined—but Betty soon came to realise, one doesn’t turn down Cheryl Blossom.

Once the cookies had cooled down to a desirable temperature, Betty sifted some icing sugar over the top and started placing them in a container.

Completing the once over of her apartment—ensuring windows were locked, heat was on (but set to low) and the lamp in the lounge flicked on, she opened the front door and pulled it closed behind her.

Throwing the keys into her handbag, Betty made her way to the lift, only to be met with a set of deep blue eyes and a crown shaped beanie.

“Jughead!”

Betty instantly wanted the floor to open up below her, and suck her in. _Idiot_ , she thought, _stop sounding like a sixteen-year-old girl_.

“Hi, Betty.”

“Going down?” she asked, flushing at the question. “I mean, as in down. In the lift. To the Lobby.” Deciding she needed to look at anything but his raised eyebrows, Betty wished she had stayed in the apartment just a few minutes longer.

“Yeah, going to the lobby, leaving the building.”

“Yeah? _Me too_!”

Thanking Santa and his little helpers at the ding of the lift getting to their floor, she smiled as Jughead signaled for her to enter first.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

After a couple of minutes riding in relative silence, Betty’s heart flew up her throat as the lift spluttered, stopped suddenly and she collided with her neighbour.

“ _Ohmygod_!” she gasped. “Ohmygod, Ohmygod.”

Attempting to scramble to her feet, Betty failed in her frivolous endeavour as she realised their legs were, very much, tangled together.

As if the lift malfunction was her own fault, Betty kept apologising—despite the other person, whom she was tangled with, telling her to _just stop_ — _sorry_ kept falling from her mouth.

After a couple more attempts, the two untangled themselves and moved to opposite sides of the lift.

Betty stood suddenly, and started pressing buttons at random, before she felt his presence beside her followed by his gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Smashing the buttons will not help,” he instructed.

Betty _obviously_ knew that. _But, in desperate times_ ….

(Mind you, being trapped in the apartment block lift with your attractive neighbour probably isn’t one of the worst things that could happen.)

She stepped away from the board, and watched Jughead press the intercom button and explain the situation.

He grumbled some incoherent words, stepped backward and slid down the wall.

“Um.” Betty watched as he slid to the floor in a heap. “What’s going on? What did they say?”

“Power outage in the building.”

Her mouth fell open. “How long until they come and get us?”

Jughead simply shrugged.

“ _How_ _long_?” she pressed, trying to ignore the heightened pitch in her voice.

“I don’t know,” Jughead huffed.

“Great.” She sighed in frustration.

It wasn’t long after that Betty noticed virtually all of the gingerbread men cookies on the floor, and it wasn’t long after that that she felt tears prickle her eyes.

_Stupid overfilled glasses of Pinot_ , she thought.

Feeling herself sink to the floor, Betty brought her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut.  _Do not cry_ , she whispered.

“What?”

“What?”

“You said something.”

Betty chewed on her bottom lip, she could’ve sworn she’d thought that.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

Jughead nodded and looked at the cookies on the floor between them.

“Looks like I owe you some cookies.”

She felt something warm in her chest at his words, but she shook her head. “It’s fine, really. I have another batch at home.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s a family recipe, I guess. Really easy to make.”

“I’d like to try it sometime.”

Betty felt his eyes on her, and the mood in the small space shifted, ever so slightly.

“Where were you going tonight? Will anyone be worried about your whereabouts?”  _Curse you, detective Betty Cooper._

“It was a friend’s Christmas party. Nothing exciting.”

“You don’t like Christmas? Or you don’t like parties?”  _Okay, he’s not in an interrogation room. Lay off the Law and Order._

“I don’t like either.”

 

~

 

An hour or two, maybe three, had passed and Betty felt a chill course through her body.

Her shiver didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re cold.”

He didn’t ask a question, he was making a statement.

“A little.”

Before she could register what was happening, he sat down beside her and she smiled at the weight around her shoulders.

Whispering a small thank you, he shrugged.

“I’ll return it to you when we finally get out of here.”

“I think, by the time we get out of here, it’ll be time for bed,” he chuckled.

_(Betty liked his chuckle.)_

“You’re probably right.”

The conversation continued to flow between the two of them—almost like they’d know one another for longer than a mere few hours.

So, when the lift spluttered once again, and the lights shone brightly, Betty couldn’t ignore the small ache in her chest.

Jughead helped place the cookies back in the container, despite Betty’s assurance of not needing his assistance.

“I helped with the mess, it’s the least I could do. Especially if I can’t eat ‘em.”

Betty giggled, and held onto the rail as the lift slowly descended to the lobby level.

Once on the ground, the two exited the lift to a handful of people waiting with bottles of water and bowls of festive looking candy.

Betty eagerly took a bottle of water, and went to hand Jughead one—but watched as he hurried out of the building.

 

* * *

 

It was Christmas Eve, which meant Netflix was his only viable option for entertainment.

Flicking through the options, he landed on Brooklyn Nine Nine and settled on the couch with his gingerbread flavoured ice cream.

(He didn’t hate _all_ things Christmas.)

Once the opening sequence finished, and the first spoonful of ice cream was in his mouth—there was a soft knock on the door. Letting out a disgruntled groan, he paused the episode and placed his bowl on the table.

Shuffling to the front door, he pulled the chain across and opened the door.

Jughead couldn’t help his jaw falling to the ground when he found his neighbour at his front door, in her cute little elf costume—with an unusual amount of cleavage showing, and what looked to be a container of cookies.

_Dammit_.

“Hey..”

“Hi, Jug.”

His throat clenched at the shortened version of his name, as his eyes drug down to the Tupperware container she had clutched between her hands.

“I believe I owe you some cookies.” She smiled.


	2. oh deer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fake!dating, sharing a bed and oh no there's been a big storm!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the next installment of my festive tropes! This has been a labour of love. I'm low-key super, duper, over-the-moon with how this has turned out.
> 
> Massive kudos to both bugggghead and ShibbyCat--I love you both. This little piece is infinitely better thanks to you two. xx
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (I should clarify--the chapters aren't linked in any way!)

“We’re doing _what_?”

Sweet Pea chuckles at his best friend and roommate’s response to his casual proposal.

“You heard me, Blondie.”

After closing the lid of her laptop and placing it on the table, Betty turns around to look at Sweet Pea. “Again, we’re doing _what_?”

“Veronica wants us to get away from the ‘big smoke’ for a few days. Escape the hustle and bustle. I mean, you can ask Jugwad to come along.”

“You know it’s Jughead—“

“—whatever, it’s a stupid name.”

“Sweet Pea.”

“Anyway,” he pokes his tongue out briefly but continues on, “It’s just a couple of days. You two have been dating for a few weeks now. Surely you can convince him to step away from his laptop.”

Betty flushes, nodding slowly. “Right, escaping the hustle and bustle. Just for a few days.... I’ll, um, I’ll ask him.”

“Great!” Sweet Pea swats playfully at her thigh, earning himself a curse word, and walks back to his room, shouting from down the hallway something about _letting Ronnie kno_ w.

Betty feels herself sink further down into the couch below and rubs both palms over her face.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Reaching for her phone, she composes a message to her “boyfriend.”

_Are you free for a late night coffee?_

Betty didn’t have to wait long—when there’s coffee on offer, she can guarantee there’ll be a response in mere minutes. She rolls her eyes at the dancing dots on the screen.

_Betty Cooper, are you trying to seduce me? Because, when there’s coffee involved… I am yours._

She jumps to her feet and hurries back to her room, ensuring the door is firmly closed behind her.

_I have a proposition for you. So, yes. One might say, I am, in fact, trying to seduce you._

Hitting send, Betty feels a bundle of nerves brewing deep in the pit of her stomach.

She can remember exactly how the plan started—it involved Veronica and Sweet Pea meeting, hitting it off, and Sweet Pea trying to set Betty up with one of Veronica’s many, _many_ friends.

It was only when Betty realised the extent of their plans (organising a blind double date, of sorts) that she needed to devise her own plan.

A plan that involved none other than her childhood friend, Jughead Jones.

Needless to say, when she sat Sweet Pea down one night over a home-cooked meal to break the news to him—his jaw dropped, his eyebrows reached his hairline, and the news was followed swiftly by some hysterical laughing (from him).

“Wait, wait, wait. _Jughead Jones_? As in former Serpent King? From our hometown, Riverdale?”

“How many Jughead’s do you know, Pea?” Betty retorted.

“But, Betty. It’s Jughead Jones.”

She stabbed at the lettuce leaves on her plate and sighed in retaliation. “I know who he is. We’re sort of dating. It would be weird if I didn’t know who he was.”

Sweet Pea dropped his fork on the table and leaned back into the chair. His eyes quizzing her, his brain coming up with a million questions—she assumed—before settling on, “How?”

It was a one-word question, but it was a loaded one-word question, the ever prepared, Betty Cooper hadn’t counted on.

Shoving the overdressed lettuce leaf into her mouth—in an attempt to buy some time—Betty held up her pointer finger murmuring, “wait.”

Sweet Pea, being ever so diligent, waited.

“Archie.”

His face didn’t change. He wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

“Archie called a week or so ago and mentioned that Jughead had been asking questions. Mentioning how he hadn’t heard from me in a while and wanted to know how I was doing - how the ‘big smoke’ was treating me. So, he gave Jughead my number, Jug contacted me, and I guess, the rest is history.” Stabbing at a cherry tomato, Betty grinned and shoved it in her mouth.

“Huh.”

She could tell he was processing this newfound information. The way his eyebrows furrowed in the middle, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I’m happy, Pea.” Reaching over the table, Betty rested her palm on his hand, “I know you two have a rocky past, but I can assure you, he’s different now. He cares for me and the people around him.”

“Okay.”

And now, here she is, changing out of her snowman pyjamas and into a pair of jeans, an oversized jumper, a beanie, and a scarf to meet her “boyfriend” in an attempt to convince him to come away for a weekend with herself, Sweet Pea, and Veronica.

.

.

.

With her laptop in front of her and her hands wrapped around a hot mug—Betty studies Jughead’s face through the screen as he drinks from his own purchased coffee. This was their thing—coffee catch-ups via Skype in their usual cafes of choice.

“So?” Taking a sip, she waits.

“So… a weekend away, huh?”

“A weekend away,” Betty repeats.

“And I can’t bring my laptop?”

“You cannot bring your beloved laptop.”

Betty winces slightly at the sigh that comes through the speakers of her own laptop.

“I mean, you can bring a notepad and pen if you’re hit with an idea.”

She can see him playing with the curls at the back of his neck, and there is the fleeting thought of threading her own fingers through said curls—to which she very quickly shakes herself back to reality.

“What do you say, Jug?” she presses. “Apparently, Veronica wants to know kind of soon.”

Chewing her lip, she watches him intently.

“We’re going to have to share a room, Betts. Maybe even a bed.” Betty flushes at his wink. “How soon does she need to know?”

“Like, yesterday.”

He chuckles, a deep hearty and masculine chuckle.

“Count me in.”

Betty smiles at the weight that lifts off her shoulders. “Thanks, Juggie,” she whispers.

The two continue chatting until he notices the yawns Betty tries to hide. They bid each other goodnight, and Betty makes her way the block down the road to her shared apartment with Sweet Pea.

 

* * *

 

“Elizabeth!”

Betty rolls her eyes as she zips up her weekend bag. “What?” she calls back.

“You good to go?”

Slipping the strap of the bag over the shoulder, Betty does a once over of her room and closes the door behind her. She walks to the lounge and raises her eyes. “As good as I’ll ever be.”

“C’mon, Betty. This will be a great weekend. _I can’t wait to see Jughead again.”_

“Maybe hold off on the disdain when you see him, yes? He wasn’t entirely thrilled to know that you had a part in organising this.”

“Make that two of us.”

Betty shoves Sweet Pea lightly, telling him to _pull his head out of his ass_. “Let’s move,” she encourages.

.

.

.

The drive to the Lodge is quiet and slightly forced. Betty notes the boys are at least trying - even if it just happens to be for the sake of the female company.

“Here we are!” Veronica squeals. “I’ll show us to our rooms.”

Betty slightly cowers at the commanding tone Veronica had used—no wonder Sweet Pea had changed in the time Veronica had been on the scene. She seems rather terrifying.

Just as Betty goes to reach for her bag, she feels a firm hand on her arm. “I got it.”

Her eyes lock with his, and she feels the heat rush to her cheeks. “Thanks, babe,” she says, sending a wink his way. She had told herself, if they were going to play the role of girlfriend and boyfriend—pet names were going to have to come into the equation.

They follow Veronica and Sweet Pea up the stairs of the Lodge and are both silently in awe of what their surroundings are going to be for the next couple of days.

“This is beautiful,” Betty thinks out loud.

“Thank you, Bettykins!” Veronica calls out over her shoulder. “Daddy Lodge has an eye for interior decoration. Everything was picked out by hand.”

Betty and Jughead turn to look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes.

“And, my two lovebirds,” they watch as she pushes the heavy wooden door wide open, “this is your room!” Veronica moves off to the side, and judging by Sweet Pea’s low whistle, Betty already knows the room is on the impressive side.

Once she sets foot into the room, she feels like she’s struggling for air—she has no breath and her throat is tight. All she can do is grab Jughead’s hand and squeeze. Tightly.

He _always_ knows.

“Veronica, this is…”

“Say nothing.” She waves her hand at them. “Just enjoy the room and relax. It’s what this weekend is for. Christmas is around the corner, and it is a tiring week in itself.” With one final swoop of the room, she’s gone, and Betty is left listening to the click of Veronica’s heels down the hall.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Betty focuses on the beating against her ribs. This is so beyond what she had imagined. She knows Veronica has money as Sweet Pea had mentioned it, but Betty hadn’t fully comprehended what kind of money Veronica actually has until this moment.

If _this_ Lodge was just their winter escape—what does her daily residence look like?

She shudders at the thought.

“Betts, you okay?”

Her head snaps in his direction. “Sorry, Jug. What were you saying?”

The edges of his lips quirk upward, and he shrugs. “I was just saying, you can have the bed. There’s a fancy looking couch over there.” Betty follows the direction in which his finger is pointed and shakes her head.

“No, Jug. We can share. The bed is…” her arm gestures to the bed in question, “spacious.” Betty walks over and launches herself onto it. “We can both sleep on it, and there will still be room.”

Jughead looks torn.

“Seriously. I mean, what happens if there’s an emergency, Veronica or Sweet Pea burst in, and you’re sleeping on the couch?”

He shakes his head. “Well, I do believe, you would be found out. Seeing as this is your story.”

“You are just as involved,” Betty retorts.

“Touché, Cooper. I suppose,” he strides toward the bed and launches himself to lay beside her, “they could always catch us in a more precarious situation, right?”

“Oh, like this?” With a sudden burst of confidence, Betty flips herself over and straddles him -- her thighs firmly planted on either side of his.

Once again, she focuses on the beating against her rib cage and the slow flickering flame in the pit of her stomach. Jughead’s hands rest on her hips. “Exactly like this,” he murmurs.

Fighting every urge to move against him, Betty pulls her right leg back over and moves to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to go check out the bathroom.”

“Good idea,” she hears from behind her as she rushes toward the one thing she hopes will distract her.

.

.

.

Dinner had been relatively painless. Small talk, the occasional knee rub from Jughead, and of course, more insight into Veronica’s flamboyant lifestyle.

(How one woman can own so many shoes is beyond Betty.)

“Anyway,” as Betty finishes loading the last of the plates into the dishwasher, “I’m going to climb into bed. I didn’t sleep very well last night, and I feel like it’s hit me.”

“Oh, Bettykins. Anything you want to talk about?”

The only other person who has any sort of vested interest in Betty’s well-being is Sweet Pea, and right now, he’s too busy outside building a snowman with Jughead.

“I guess I’m just nervous about this weekend—“

“You and Jughead. You two haven’t slept together yet, have you?” Veronica gasps before Betty can finish.

Betty hadn’t even factored _that_ into any part of this plan.

“Oh, Betty.” Veronica sweeps Betty out of the kitchen and drags her up the stairs.

“What are we doing?” she manages to squeak out.

“I always pack extra supplies.”

Betty’s mouth falls open at the luxurious room she finds herself in. This room is phenomenal. This room is fit for royalty, and this is where Sweet Pea is spending the next few days.

(She makes a mental note to chat about it when they get home.)

Watching Veronica rummage through her drawers, Betty startles at the ensemble that is pulled out.

“Veronica…”

“Hush, Bettykins.” Veronica pushes forward and instructs Betty to hold her palms out. Placing the garment in her hands, Veronica gives her a wink. “Sweets and I are going to go explore the local bars. There’s a wine cellar downstairs if you’re in need of some liquid courage.”

Veronica swooshes out of the room, leaving Betty alone with the very real scenario of her new friend organising her to have sex with her boyfriend.

(If only Jughead was actually her boyfriend, because this lingerie is exquisite.)

.

.

.

After Veronica and Sweet Pea bid them farewell, Betty and Jughead sit in the lounge, in front of the fire, watching some Christmas movie.

Betty stands suddenly. “Veronica mentioned she had a wine cellar downstairs. I’m going to go and investigate.”

“Ooooh, consider my interest piqued.” Jughead jumps off the couch, in one swift graceful movement, and follows Betty toward the door leading to the wine cellar.

He tugs the door open, and Betty pulls the rope that’s off to the side. After a few seconds, the room that had been shrouded in complete darkness slowly lights up. Her mouth falls open from what she could merely see from the top of the staircase.

Jughead grabs her hand and moves past her. “We haven’t got all night, babe. Let’s go investigate.”

Betty yelps at the firm yet gentle pull of her hand, guiding her down the stairs.

“Ohmygod,” she whispers.

Once the room comes fully into view, they’re both rendered speechless.

“This is something else,” Jughead mutters.

“I see a section of Pinots. I’m going to have a look.” Reluctantly letting go of his hand, Betty moves toward the wall of reds.

Sweeping her hand over the bottles, Betty pulls one out every so often, inspecting the labels with widening eyes as the years go on and on. There are thousands of dollars worth of wine in this section alone. She feels something wash over her but can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

It doesn’t feel right taking one of these bottles. After a mental argument with herself, Betty calls out to Jughead, “We should head back upstairs.”

Making her way over to the bottom of the staircase, she waits. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait too long for him.

“No wine?” he questions, lopsided grin to boot.

“I can’t,” is her simple answer.

“That’s fair. It all seems a bit—“

“—much?” she finishes.

“It’s like you’re in my head, Cooper.”

“What kind of place is your head, Jones?”

Betty shudders as he slowly closes the gap between them. “That’s more of a bedroom conversation.”

Nodding, she grabs his hand and pulls him up the stairs. “In a hurry?” he calls out from behind her.

“I just have this fear, despite not being near the wine, I’m going to knock one over, and it’ll be a domino effect of some kind.”

Again, that damn chuckle.

.

.

.

“Looks like we may be here by ourselves tonight,” Betty announces, quickly tapping at her phone screen, locking it, and setting it on the table.

“Oh?”

Betty stands and moves to the window, pulling the curtains aside. She turns to face Jughead and motions outside.

He stands and takes in the sight before him.

“Sweets and Veronica are stuck in town. There are no Ubers coming up here. Not that he seems worried at all. He just said to be…” Betty bites her tongue.

“He just said to be….what?” Jughead presses.

Betty clears her throat and fidgets with the hem of her sweater. “To be safe, but I feel like Veronica may have hijacked his phone.”

“Why safe?”

“Ummm...” Betty’s mind floats to the lingerie she has hidden away in the drawers.

“You’re stalling, Cooper. Burgling time.”

“Because I may have told Veronica that we haven’t had sex yet. So, she kindly lent me some of her lingerie,” Betty blurts out in a rush, instantly wanting the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Huh.”

“I don’t know, Jug. I’m sorry!” She feels silly.

“Why are you saying sorry, Betts? I should be saying sorry.”

Betty quirks an eyebrow, genuinely confused at his statement. “What?”

“I mean,” he moves closer to Betty and grabs her hands. “How is that we’ve been dating for, what, four weeks, and I haven’t made a move?”

“It could’ve been me that stopped us.”

Pulling his hands from hers and motioning from head to toe, Jughead snorts, "let's be real here. You couldn't resist this."

“How real?” she quips.

“How real do you want to be, Betty?”

“As real as real can be, Juggie,” she whispers. Her shoulders feel light, but her heart is pounding furiously in her chest.

“Seeing as we’ve been dating for a few weeks now, babe. What are the chances of me getting to see this lingerie soon?”

Betty giggles and plays with the lapels of his Sherpa jacket. “How soon do you want to see them, Jug?”

“As soon as possible, but we do have all night apparently.” He pulls Betty to him, and his lips meet hers in a slow, yet heated kiss.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Betty breaks the kiss, and rests her forehead against his. “Then, I’m happy for us to take our time.” She reaches down and links her fingers with his, pulling him in the direction of the room upstairs.

 

* * *

 

It’s only when the four friends are packing up their car to commence the journey back home, that Veronica casually mentions she’s over the moon that the lingerie got put to good use the night before.

When questioned -- minimal words are required -- Betty very quickly turns the same shade of red as the festive jumper she’s wearing, and Jughead is pulling his beanie as far over his head as it will possibly allow.

“Merry Christmas to all,” Sweet Pea mutters from the front seat.


End file.
